Through Thy Devil's Eyes
by Dariush
Summary: Beneath the boiling surface of the intergalatic war between humanity and the Covenant, a threat is emerging.


Disclaimer: I do not own Halo or any of its trademarks, logos, ect...  
  
1839 hours, September 24th, 2552 Military Calendar Aboard Covenant Cruiser [b] The Retribution [/b] /  
  
[b] Aradiuns Ocativius [/b] System, former UNSC held territory  
  
The clacking heels of bounded steps resounded throughout the hallway of the Covenant cruiser, [b]The Retribution [/b]. The Elite named Vora Vorakian was still passing through numerous corridors and passageways leading to the bridge of his transferred command as a Ship Master of [b] The Retribution [/b].  
  
He was already a formidable Ship Master, however due to his actions against UNSC taskforce stationed near Terra La, a small human inhabited moon occupied by the vermin. Two of their frigates and one of the Covenant destroyers were outnumbered by eight of the vermin's frigates and assault- destroyers, they were however repelled by the one surviving destroyer, although with heavy casualties and damage in the end of the battle.  
  
He was promptly promoted to one of the three flagships Ship Masters and secondary aide of the Fleet Master, Rorai 'Rolameeian. His command was transferred over to the Fleet Master's personal ship as its acting commander, after the death of Ship Master Zoak 'Zemmalee. It did not matter though to the Ship Master of the flagship, he was here to serve under the Fleet Master.  
  
Straightening to his maximum height (though it was actually 7'8) he brushed past two marooned clad Elites. They stood rigid and solid as stone and the gravity of the ongoing situation was evident by the two's harden glares emitting from their faces.  
  
Upon his entering the bridge, several Elites and Grunts were active at their stations but still had time to salute their commander. Nodding in approval at his command staff, he let them back to their duty. He turned to his second, Field Master Nakara Najlameeian and allowed the chrome clad armored Elite to speak.  
  
"Ship Master, progress remains the same...somewhat," answered the younger Elite, one from the academy from the military home world of the Covenant. The Ship Master shifted slightly and cast a light clicking sound with his mandibles.  
  
"And why is that, my friend?" the other responded quickly and smoothly, "We did detect a faint ghost echoes on the sensors about two hours ago". The Ship Master was intrigued heavily by this anomaly.  
  
The Covenant knew that [I] ghost echoes [/I] were residual patterns of ions left by slipstream jumps, wither it involved arriving or leaving a destination. They also were fairly compact in the UNSC sub-light engines, thus were marker for ships outside direct sensor detection. If there were ghost echoes, then humans could not be far off from the system.  
  
The Ship Master stared hard at his subordinate and the younger Elite responded, "We dismissed them as emissions from the wreckage of our own ships at station" he stopped then continued but stopped from adding anything else of use.  
  
The Ship Master pondered this before staring at the holographic displays on the tactical board. "Tactical, how many planets and moons are inhabitable for either Covenant or the vermin in this system?" added the Elite.  
  
The Tactical Operator Master glanced for a few moments at his displays before activating a passive scan from the Retribution's axis of scanners. A few moments more and he had his results for his commander.  
  
"Two moons orbiting a single uninhabitable planet that the infidels call Sephavi Sypire ", the Ship Master's mandibles clicked for a few moments, pondering this development. The Tactical Elite rotated around and added, " Master, several hundred thousand heat signatures are radiating off the secondary moon from Sephavi!"  
  
Humans! "What are they doing down there?" the Elite engaged an orbital scan and probed the moon for a short moment. The results were immediately uploaded. "They're gathering troops sir, that's all that is clear at the moment" was the answer.  
  
But there were none of the vermin's warships in the vicinity. The inferior human drive emissions gave off a positive charge. So these humans were not responsible of the destruction of the two cruisers, [b] Ode of Lords [/b] and [b] Charity of Spirit [/b]. Still they would be punished as the filth they were!  
  
Vora glanced at the chronometer realizing that two units had fully passed. Most of the Covenant warships had already filed to the second rendezvous point for preparation of the invasion of Sol's Terra Firma. But there were still about three other cruisers and a small task force of two destroyers and three frigates.  
  
Turning to his communications officer, he barked his order. The remaining ships that had not left for the rendezvous were to take polar and orbital positions over the second moon of Sephavi Sypire. Now it was time...  
  
Field Master Dar Davaraleei glanced at the bustling docking bay in the frigate, The Fate's Sorrow Song. All around him Grunts and Engineers loaded weapons and ordnance into Phantom troop transports and other drop ships. Veteran and novice Elites clad in their maroon and cobalt armor (respectively) as well as red and orange Grunts and few Hunters, gather into waiting drop ships.  
  
And each that was carrying full operation payload of troops took off toward the blue and green world of the moon. Finally, Field Master Dar gave the signal and the rest of his ebony armor-clad Elites mounted their own personal Phantom.  
  
The drop down was uneventful, if one excluded the heavy anti-aircraft fire coming from all over the planet. Hundreds of firebases and regional command bases, opened up on the invaders. Several of the Covenant crafts were simply ripped apart and gutted, spewing their living occupants either into the upper atmosphere to fall to their deaths or also being ripped apart in mid-air by random rounds.  
  
The golden armor of the Field Master Dar Davaraleei flashed once as plasma spewed from the underbelly guns of the drop ship, softening the landing zone. The Black Ops Elites rushed through and landed silently on the temperate soil. They were six hundred meters off the LZ!  
  
"Damn it!" growled the Field Master as he fastened his plasma saber's hilt to his side and gripped his plasma rifle in his left hand. Once taking second look to make sure his shields were fully operational, he started sprinting with his men toward their real landing zone.  
  
A few hundred meters ahead of the Elites at the clearing of the forests, a squad of ODST's was readying. As soon as the first two Black Ops brushed past the foliage and vegetation, they fired. Their AR's had little effect at about seventy meters and they bowled over the first line. More of the Elites began clearing the forest and started strafing the encamped humans. A man fell with a gaping; sizzling wound splattering blood from what was an armor plate protecting his stomach.  
  
A howling whistling sound echoed the presence of a plasma grenade. It tottered and landed in the midst of the battle-hardened Helljumpers and ripped their ranks with practiced ease. Blood and limbs were sent failing into sky and sent mists of red and gore to the ground. The Elites had taken no casualties and only one wounded, who would stay in the back of the pack. Field Master Davaraleei smirked as his plasma saber severed the spine of the last human, who twitched once in his death spasm before subsuming to death. A few of the Black Ops who engaged in close-quarters combat had painted the blood of the humans on their armor, their sign of warrior spirit.  
  
Davaraleei grinned wickedly as his golden armor was painted with crimson blood seeping off it. Today was a good day to die a great death! Growling, they continued toward their objective, to link up with Field Master Kauai Kronianalee's battalion and thrust toward the secondary defensive flank of the humans.  
  
But for now, a war hymn played gently in the Field Master's mind. A soothing tale of what he expected of his men, and more importantly of himself.  
  
[I] Come, let the souls of your ancestors redeem you  
  
And your clan by bathing in the blood of the heathens! To honor and battle! Let us feast upon their marrow! And destiny shall appoint ye, high guard of righteousness. Reclaimer of the prophets, conveyer of light to the lords. Ye are the chosen ones, the one-winged demons Of thy merciful and great, lords of Gods! [/I]  
  
Author's Comments - Reviews, comments are appreciated. What'd you think of it? Good? Bad? Need some area to be improved? 


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